


Courage under Fire

by Lionsmane



Series: Love between Warriors [4]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Porn, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2018-07-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 20:05:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9140233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lionsmane/pseuds/Lionsmane
Summary: Tauriel reaches her hand out to him.  “Kili will you walk with me?”His hand trembles in hers even though he walks by her side with his head held high and his shoulders squared.  She has never felt such fragility in him, and the difference in their heights, which has never mattered before, never seemed to make a difference in the matching of their characters at all--Suddenly it matters.  At this moment she finds herself actually wishing she were just a little shorter.Trouble with a major Battle pending.





	1. Princely concerns

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so it has been awhile. Sorry about that.  
> This first chapter is a deceptively light beginning to what will become an angsty story. I hope you enjoy.

The sky has blackened to charcoal outside the walls of Erebor. The only reason Kili and Fili know this is because they sit perched on the battlements above the newly barricaded entrance to the Kingdom they had been told all of their lives would one day belong to them.

A home. A real one, not built of wood that constantly needed repair, plugging up cracks to keep out the cold, but one of stone built by dwarves, with great roaring fireplaces and thick carpets, full larders and glowing kitchens, golden craft halls full of masters hard at work creating objects of beauty no other race had the ability to create. A treasure so large that they need never be indebted to anyone ever again. No more struggle, no more forced service of their skills in the mines, forges and shops of others. Forced to work for dwarves not of their lineage who looked down their noses at them, or humans who underestimated them and insulted them for their size and paid them half what their skills were worth. There was a place across the plains and mountains of Arda where they would finally belong and define their own lives and destinies.

The stories ring bitterly in their minds now.

The one who had told them these stories had never mentioned anything about gold fever, about the strange glazed look on their Uncle’s face, about suspicion and betrayal and a King’s refusal to honor his given word.

He’d barely acknowledged them when they’d arrived.

He hurled accusations against his most trusted friends and kin.

Outside the Men of Laketown were hungry and cold, and the Elves appeared to be amassing an army to attack them over a single necklace. Thorin did nothing about either situation.

And then this morning Thorin had nearly killed Bilbo with his bare hands.

The storm brewing in the skies outside seems a small thing compared to turmoil churning inside the mountain. The members of the company follow the orders of their King with emptiness in their eyes. They load piles of gold into wheelbarrows and move it deeper into the mountain as ordered though they cannot understand the order. They fortify the battlements with Dwarven defenses and prepare for a siege that is nonsensical and unnecessary.

It feels unbearable to Kili. It is not in his nature to sit by. They watched others older and wiser than they attempt to reason with Thorin and fail. Kili paces back and forth in frustration as Fili silently works a sharpening stone over one of his throwing knives. Finally Kili can stand it no longer, one fist punching into his hand.

“I’m going to go talk to him.”

Fili doesn’t even get up. “You’ll do no such thing.”

“You should come too, He’ll listen to us, we’re his closest kin.”

“No, Kili.”

“Fine, I’ll go alone.” He begins to step away. Fili drops his work and catches him, pressing him firmly against the battlement wall.

“Kili, NO.”

Kili stares at him as though only just realizing Fili had been sharing this space with him for the past few hours.

“What’s gotten into you?”

He doesn’t remember ever seeing his brother’s face look so intense, and that is saying something. Fili opens his mouth to say something, then closes it, looks away to the dusky sky, then back at Kili again. Finally he pushes back from him, sighing heavily.

“It’s difficult to see Uncle this way.”

“All the more reason to do something about it.”

“Balin, Dwalin, Gloin--the oldest, wisest and closest friends to him have already tried and failed.”

“So it’s time for the youngest and dumbest to try now.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Fine. Tell me what you did mean.”

Fili gives him the same exasperated look he remembers from when they were younglings and Kili was trying to talk him into ditching their chores for a swim in the river.

“What? You think Uncle would attack me? You don’t think I can defend myself?”

“No, no I don’t think that. Even in his state he wouldn’t harm us. We’re valuable to him as heirs at least,” Fili’s tone turns bitter, “Like a bit of his treasure, a couple of rare gold pieces. THat’s the way he’s treated us since we arrived in Laketown.”

They stay quiet a moment. It was true, Kili thought. Up until then, Thorin had been Thorin. Taciturn, stubborn, unfathomable, still waters running so deep that one only noticed how sharp his mind was when his full height and temper roused. But no one wiser, no one steadier in his purpose, and noone more loyal and true to his kin than Thorin. So his condition now feels like the world overturned.

How could he leave them behind? And then barely greet them when they finally arrived?

“You think that is when he changed?”

“The moment he ordered you to stay behind in Laketown he was no longer the Uncle we knew.”

“So what will work? What will help him?”

“That gold is cursed.”

“So we drag him away from it. The others would help us, we recruit them and we just--”

“Our line is cursed, too! Gold fever is in our blood.“

“Wait, you think I’m going to get gold fever?”

“You are young, you’ve never faced anything like this.”

“You are about three days older than me in dwarf years, Fili, and as far as I know you’ve never faced anything like this either unless Amad was keeping a small dragon’s hoard under the floorboards in our hut back in Ered Luin.”

Fili sighs heavily again. His eyes squeeze shut.

“What is it, _Khazash_?”

“You are like him. You always have been, more so than I.”

“So that doesn’t mean I’m more likely to fall under the spell of dragon gold than you. I spent as much time in that damned treasure room searching for the Arkenstone as you did and I’m still myself am I not?”

Fili’s mouth tugs into a smile. “Definitely.”

“So why are you suddenly so concerned?”

“I can’t lose you.”

“You’re not losing me.”

“You’ve...shown yourself to be...susceptible to magical influence of late.”

_Mahal._

“Now you’ve lost me.”

“Just don’t go near him. Don’t go down there. It won’t do any good anyway.”

Kili stares at him. Decades of working, living, struggling, fighting by his side pass through his mind in a parade of fond memories. His brother is scared. He’s never seen that before.

Abruptly Kili stands up.

“Come on.” He hooks a hand under Fili’s shoulder and begins to drag him upwards and towards the hallway leading into the main hall.

“What? Where are we going?”

“Just come on.”

Fili could resist if he really wanted to. Kili knows that. He banks on his brother’s curiosity being stronger than his sense of propriety.

He pulls him, protesting and questioning, through the kitchens where he collects a bottle of mead and two copper goblets. Other members of the Company look at them quizzically as Kili continues his single minded journey through the scorched halls of Erebor, downwards past the residence halls and receiving rooms until their destination becomes all too obvious to Fili.

“Kili, what do you think you are doing?”

“You doubt me. You even doubt yourself, I think.”

“This is crazy!”

“No, this is necessary.”

Coins begin to litter the floor of the passageway as they near the treasure chamber. The air reeks of the metallic scent of the hoard, and the overhanging stench of dragon. Kili drags them into the sea of coins and attacks the first hill of treasure with Fili in tow, headed straight up into it, occasionally looking to the right and left, his eyes scanning objects as they trudge onwards, their boots sinking into the rattling coins at every step.

“Got a plan, then?”

“Just humor me.”

“That exactly describes what I am doing, brother.”

Kili eyerolls him. He appears to spot something and they change direction, heading down into a golden valley Fili does not recognize. Near the bottom of it a massive chair made of gold and encrusted with sapphires. Its legs are buried in treasure, and it appears to have been crafted for elfkind, so the seat is easily wide enough for them both.

Kili gestures to it, “Have a seat.” When Fili does, Kili hands him the goblets and mead, and disappears behind the chair while Fili shakes his head and begins working open the cork in the mead bottle for lack of anything else to do. After a few minutes he hears Kili’s bootsteps chinking back through the coins towards him, and suddenly feels a heavy weight settle onto his head. Frowning, he raises his hands to investigate only to have two ornate bracelets slide down onto both of his wrists, and as he peruses them at least six thick stranded jeweled necklaces descend around his neck.

“Kili?”

“Not done. Be right back. Pour the mead.”

After some time, they sit side by side in the ornate chair, both wearing so much metallic finery they can barely move, and buried up to the waists in gold coins that Kili had pulled onto them for good measure.

Finally satisfied, Kili relieves Fili of one of the full goblets he has been holding as he stared at his brother’s efforts.

“Cheers.”

“Explanation. Now.”

Kili takes a long draught of mead before answering. “We came in here under orders from no one but ourselves, yes?”

“Well YOU did.”

“How do you feel?”

  
“Irritated.”

“Like I’m wasting your time?”

“Yes.”

“Like there are better things you could be doing? Like taking care of those in our company who can still think straight? or preparing a backup plan to deal with the real threats facing this mountain?”

Fili’s eyes narrow and one side of his mouth has slowly curled upward. He nods. _I'm going to need him,_   he thinks. _I am really going to need him._

They sit quietly together for awhile before Fili breaks the silence.

“How about you? Feeling any more grandiose than usual?”

“Nope. about the same. Mahal this thing is heavy.” Kili pulls the crown sitting on his head off and tosses it into the coin pile around them. Fili does the same, and takes his first sip of mead.

“I do have one more question for you, though.”

Fili looks at him and sees his brother’s face has grown serious.

“Do you think I’m still susceptible to female Elven magic?”

“No.” Fili answers immediately. Kili’s expression warms and he raises his goblet, clinking it against Fili’s. “Drink up little brother. We have work to do.”

As Kili pours the last of the mead into both goblets, an enormous grin spreads across Fili’s face.

“And if you plan on testing your immunity to female Elven influence I definitely want to be part of that.”


	2. Ravens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes it has been while! Life is competing very strongly for my attention this year. But this story never dies in my head. It will get finished eventually, I promise!

The air feels heavy and charged with coming danger. Fili sits alone at the top of the newly barricaded front gate watching over the plains below. Only a day has passed since Thorin’s madness had nearly ended Bilbo’s life in this very place. His Uncle broods in his throne room now, attended by Dwalin and Balin, the only ones left who seem able to withstand the heartbreak of seeing such a great one overthrown. Fili is glad they are with him because of their genuine care for his Uncle, but also because the meeting he and Kili have planned with the others requires Thorin’s absence.

It is the most benign way Fili can word it for himself. They require Thorin’s absence so that they can make the necessary preparations so crucial to their survival in coming days. Preparations that Thorin himself should have ordered by now if not for the gold sickness that has claimed him.

But Fili knows very well that in any dwarf court of law his actions are treasonous.

Thorin’s paranoia shows no signs of abating. He is suspicious of everyone now, even those most loyal to him. Ironically, for the first time since their Journey began, his suspicions have foundation. His people really are colluding against him. The Princes hate to think of it this way. They love their Uncle and would die for him, and they are certain that every dwarf in the Company feels this same loyalty. But there is no doubt now in Fili mind that Thorin’s gold sickness has clouded his judgement.

They are not really colluding against Thorin, because this isn’t Thorin.

Fili’s eyes close. He keeps the memory of his brother’s incorrible and insouciant behavior in the treasure room close to his heart. Thorin’s eyes have glazed over and their world will soon be filled up with murderous orcs and death and blood, and Kili’s response is to thumb his nose at their pile of gold and shame Fili into getting off of his sad arse to do something about it.

If Thorin will not lead, then Fili must. He wishes to Aule he did not have to do this. He hopes Kili’s blind faith in him is not misplaced.

Suddenly he feels a ripple in the air. Or is it in his head? Two black specks have appeared in the sky on the northern horizon, and grow larger and larger as Fili watches, sliding down from his perch on the wall as he wonders, should he sound an alarm?

Ravens. The ravens are here. He only knows of them from tales his mother had told him by the fire. Their wingspans extend further than his own arms would if he held them out straight. Roac and his son Cren fly past him through the gate and into Erebor, in search of the King.

After a short while they return to him. _Have they spoken to Thorin?_ Fili wonders as they alight gracefully in front of him and arrange their feathers primly atop the stone barricade. _If they found the King, why call upon me?_ The older raven regards him keenly for a long moment, the feathers surrounding his old eyes greying or absent. But this only seems to magnify the effect of the great bird’s gaze, filling Fili with awe and absolute faith in the sentience and wisdom of the old raven.

_Can you understand me my Prince?_

The words ring clearly in Fili’s head as the bird’s beak appears to speak these words.

“Yes I understand.”

_We did indeed find King Thorin, but he was not able to hear us._

Roac bows his head low before him, and looks to his son Cren, who hops forward.

_We have important news to impart to the House of Durin. May we entrust you with it?_

Fili’s stomach churns and his fingers tingle at their words. The mantle of leadership falls upon him thus? He did not want it this way. But he does not see any other choice.

“You may. I am listening.”

 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Gathering the members of the company to a secret meeting proves easier than Kili had feared. The Ri brothers barely need nudging. Dori nods before Kili even finishes explaining, asking _when?_ And _where?_ The Ur brothers react the same way. Oin, eldest of all of them besides Balin, asks questions before agreeing, but nods sagely in the end. Gloin glowers at the Prince, but gives them his grudging assent once he sees his brother acquiesce.

Balin and Dwalin have remained in such close service to Thorin since the incident at the ramparts that they decide not to involve them. Even though Nori assures them that both Balin and Dwalin would support the Princes’ efforts, they know their Uncle needs these two eldest and wisest brothers of the Company more than they do.

The Uncle they knew, so uncommonly clear headed in a crisis, so able to discern the best course of action to serve and protect his people, is doing nothing to serve or protect anyone. On the contrary, his actions have antagonized their potential allies and failed to prepare any of them for the real enemy that is almost upon them.

Kili tells himself this as he waits in the small chamber they chose to gather with the others. He adds fuel to the fire in the small fireplace in the corner. Ori and Dori file in quietly a few minutes later and take up seats on the floor near him, casually stoking their pipes and smoking calmly. Bofur and Bifur arrive next, promising that Bombur is on his way soon with a tray of food and drink for them all. The rotund dwarf comes in presently, backing through the door with his large tray, Oin and Gloin trailing behind.

They begin drinking and munching at the food, making nervous small talk. It almost feels like they are camped in the wild again there on the floor together sharing food Bombur prepared for them.

But Kili has become worried. Where is Fili? He is the Heir and should be leading them, had called for this meeting and designated this room. Has something happened?

“So...Kili.” Dori interrupts his thoughts. “What’s this I hear about you makin’ eyes at a Elf lass?”

Kili chokes on his mead. He feels all of their eyes on him. They need an answer. They deserve to know the nature of their Prince’s involvement with an elf belonging to a Realm whose King had imprisoned them only a short time ago.

Mahal, his own thoughts about Tauriel have been in turmoil since Galadriel’s betrayal. The world became much larger after his conversation with the Elven Queen. Suddenly his bow and his sword and all of his heart and strength seem like pitiful defenses now that he knows first hand that there are beings who can dominate his will with nought but a spoken word. He still believes in Tauriel’s goodness. He knows she has been as much a victim of misused magic as he. But he has doubts, and questions.

Bofur and Oin know more than the others. They were there. It instills some confidence in him that they regard him now with steady eyes and soft smiles beneath their moustaches.

“It is true that I had a liaison with an Elf. Her name is Tauriel. She was Thranduil’s Captain of the Guard.”

“‘Was’ you say? Past tense?”

“Aye. Tauriel was ill used by Thranduil and has left his allegiance. Oin can confirm this.”

Oin nods soberly. The others who are hearing this story for the first time continue to puff on their pipes, their brows furrowed in thought. Finally it is Gloin who speaks.

“So do you have her allegiance now, or does she have yours?”

Kili breathes into the silence and answers with the one truth he can give them.

“My first allegiance is to my kin and to this company. That has not changed and will never change.”

Suddenly the door bangs open. Nori bursts into the room, his hair looking even wilder than usual, his eyes bright with news. Kili springs to his feet, fearing the worst. Has Thorin found them out? Have Balin and Dwalin sided against them?

“You won’t believe it lads!” says Nori breathlessly. “The ravens have made contact with us. Roac himself was here with his son on the stone ramparts just now, and he spoke to Fili, and Fili understood him!”

Gasps of surprise and awe fill the room. Of course. The ravens would have sought Thorin first, but the King had all but barricaded himself in the treasure room for these past many days and would have proven difficult for them to reach. Even had they ventured into the Mountain to find him Thorin’s mind is so clouded by gold sickness that the great birds’ words might never have penetrated. Fili has spent more time at the gates than any of them and his thoughts are open and clear. Kili’s heart sparks with hope and he grins broadly when Fili finally steps into the room with a new sheen of regal countenance about him.

They all come to their feet and surround Fili, seeming to need to touch him and speak to him.

“What did they say to ya Fili?”  
“Is it true about the army of Orcs?”  
“Any news from Dain?”

Fili nods, trying to answer all of them at once.


	3. Betrayal

_Gold. It glows and pulses and breathes like a glorious living thing around Thorin as he walks deeper and deeper into the treasure halls and rooms stacked with his Grandfather’s legacy. He vaguely senses Balin and Dwalin following him, always staying close. Their presence has begun to gall him. He had believed in their absolute loyalty to him but now he sees only shadows when he looks at them. They disapprove of every order he has given and only follow him now to spy on him, he is certain. His blood boils with knowledge of betrayal. Betrayal by his closest advisors, by the Burglar Hobbit, by his own Sister Sons, probably by every dwarf in the company. They all frown at him, question his decisions, whisper amongst themselves. They have turned against him. To the Darkness with all of them._

_He has found something here in this antechamber that is not only precious but that will allow him to take the upper hand. Better than the Arkenstone. Better than the Ravens who fluttered around his head some hours ago clucking and cawing uselessly at him._

_A Palantir._

_It called to him by name. Now as he touches its smooth surface he can see things and know things that had been hidden. It takes him on a journey across the ages of Middle Earth, shows him Kingdoms as they rose and fell. The Woodland Realm appears to him in hues of charcoal, the faces of Thranduil and his Elves blackened and corrupt. They have long sought to steal the treasure of Erebor. The Men of Dale collude in their pitiful human huts against the dwarves, trading with Erebor but always seeking more gold for their farm grown products than they deserved._

_The Palantir brings him to the present. Bard smirks as he holds the Arkenstone, the King’s Jewel (HIS JEWEL!) in his hands, as the cursed Hobbit sits nearby lazily smoking a pipe. Legolas, Thranduil’s brat, moves amongst the elves camped on the plains with a red headed Elf girl by his side, the two of them rallying their ranks with a warcry against the Mountain King._

_Erebor shines as the greatest of Kingdoms, and the line of Durin as the finest of the Dwarf lineages, and Thorin himself as the Greatest King Under the Mountain. But he will only keep his throne if he can protect his treasure. He will only keep his throne if he can root out the weakness around him._

\---------------------------------------------------------

 

The atmosphere in the armory is jovial but hushed. Nori and Bifur take over the sharpening tools and the others bring their swords and axes to them one by one. Selecting weapons is serious business for a dwarf, and they take their time to search through the enormous collection of dusty armor and blades that has sat untouched for so long. The Ri brothers fuss over Ori, selecting metal plates at first that are far too large and heavy for him. Kili smiles as he watches Fili intercede, helping them to find armor for the smaller dwarf that will offer good protection but still allow him to fight. Ori would go into battle with only his sling shot but Fili finds him a good sword and suggests they find a room to practice sparring. Bifur in his corner struggles to find a helm that will fit over the axe blade stuck in his head, and Bombur searches for hours for mail with enough berth for him to wear without pinching him around his enormous belly.

Kili breathes with relief at seeing the Company on its feet and in good humor again. Once he himself is arrayed with a proper bow and sword and fitted with mail and armor finer and more flexible than anything he’s ever owned, Kili feels better than he has in many weeks.

 

When Dwalin abruptly enters the armory, though, they all go silent.

 

He goes straight to Fili. Kili hurries to stand by his brother’s side. Dwalin’s appearance shocks him. The old warrior seems a ghost of his former self, his skin pale and his eyes devoid of hope, his great muscled height uncharacteristically stooped as he speaks.

 

“Did the Ravens come to you?”

 

“Aye, they spoke to me.”

 

“What news?”

 

“Dain marches to us with 2000 Ironfists and should be here before nightfall. The Woodland Elves are led by Legolas and Tauriel and look to be about 1000 strong. The Men of Dale are preparing, too, under Bard’s leadership, but probably no more than a few hundred of them and weakened by injuries from the Dragon’s attack.”

 

“And this Orc army? Is it real?”

 

“Aye it’s real. Roac said 10,000 of them march to this Mountain with full bloodlust. They will arrive around the same time Dain arrives.”

 

The others have gathered round, their faces grave.

 

“How is my Uncle?”

 

“Not well. Not himself. Balin stays with him but I do not think Thorin knows he is there, or that I left.” Dwalin looks at the others, seeing their armor, their weapons newly sharpened. “Did you send a message to Dain?”

 

Fili nods. “That Orcs threaten Erebor, and that we will join them on the field to defend it.”

 

Dwalin nods nods slowly, color returning him.

 

“What other plans are you making?”

 

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Fili and Dwalin continue to talk out battle strategies while Kili leads the others in loading wagons with food and weapons for the Men of Dale. Movement with purpose feels better than sitting and worrying as the battle draws closer. He doesn’t know where Bombur keeps finding food in this dusty old place but the dwarf seems to have a built-in compass for preserved dry goods.

 

They have wagons loaded and are just beginning to discuss how in Arda will they manage to get them out of the Mountain when Balin arrives, even more pale and agitated than Dwalin had been.

 

“Thorin comes, lads. Thorin comes and he is… he is…”

 

“Where is my Sister Son?!!!” Thorin comes in like a storm, his robes unkempt and his hair and eyes wild. Kili immediately looks to Fili, who has risen to his feet and stares at Thorin in horror. But before Kili can reach him, his Uncle has grabbed Kili and slammed him against a wall.

 

“You!! Traitor!! Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

 

Kili stares at Thorin, not comprehending. “...Uncle?”

 

“Did you even think before you acted? Did the faces of your kin and kinsmen even cross your mind as you fucked those Elven bitches??!!”

 

Now Kili is as flabbergasted as he is mortified. Thorin has walked into the midst of his own company acting in direct violation of his orders, in the process of preparing to aid those Thorin had declared to be their enemies in a time of pending battle, and yet chooses to direct his anger against Kili for having sex with Elves?

 

Thorin turns to the others, sneering, “Couldn’t keep it in his breeches.” He doesn’t see the discomfort the company shows in their pinched brows and shuffling feet as he turns back to Kili, “Have you no pride? To lie with that Elven filth? To make yourself and all of us vulnerable to their witchcraft?”

 

Kili steels himself. He knows what he has to do.

 

“I do not deny it.” There is a collective gasp. He sees Fili's face fill with anguish and his brother shakes his head and steps forward, but Dwalin’s thick forearm stops him.

 

Kili drops to his knees and bows his head. “I meant no treachery, but I showed no self control. I am sorry, Uncle.” that much is certainly true.

 

“How dare you address me as your Uncle!!” Thorin roars and grasps his sword hilt. Balin comes to his side and whispers shrilly to him before he can draw Orchrist from its sheath. Dwalin moves to Kili’s side and draws him roughly to his feet but his voice in Kili’s ear is less rough,

_find the Ironfists and stick with them._

 

Thorin’s hand seizes Kili by the throat and his voice feels like acid in Kili's heart. “No more are you kin of mine. You are banished from Erebor. Do not ever return unless you seek your own death. Go and wallow in the cunts of your Elf whores!!”

 

Dwalin hauls him away to the front gate, easing his firm hold as they leave Thorin’s sight. Kili breathes hard, knowing he did the right thing but now wondering if he really possesses the strength to see it through. The others do not follow them.

 

Dwalin pats him gently as they reach the same place on the gate where Bilbo had made his way down the day before. “Ye did right, Kili. Your brother and the others know it.”

 

Kili nods, trembling. “Look after Fili?”

 

“That I will.”


	4. Banished

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to thank all of you have been reading and leaving comments and kudoes. 
> 
> And I do want thank Cassidy_And_The_Company for appearing out of the blue twice in the long life of this series and giving me a gentle kick in the pants that I apparently needed to keep this thing going!
> 
> And thank you Iscalibtra for just always being there!!!

Clouds have blocked the sun for days. Tauriel has grown tired of it. These clouds chill her spirit in their stillness and unnatural gravity, as though the very winds of Arda dare not blow in this place where evil converges. Life holds its breath.

They have moved their camp so close to the Rivendell and Lothlorien camps that from Dale it must appear that the Elves had unified into one camp. It was not far from the truth. Every one of her people had wished to distance themselves from the place where Thranduil had fallen. Anywhere but there. They had pulled their tents down in silence and migrated in unspoken agreement towards Elrond’s and Galadriel’s campfires, drawn to the blood of their own kind, but sensing that here were elves whose lives had been freer and calmer than theirs had been this past century at least.

Elrond and Galadriel remain in Dale with the other Guardians, but their people welcome them and make no distinction between those of Sindarin and Sylvan lineage. This affects the Wood Elves deeply. The ripples of shock and wonder and gratitude that Tauriel feels coming especially from the Sylvan women brings her close to weeping. Legolas’ steadying hand at the small of her back keeps her grounded as she continues to lead them in their preparations for the coming battle.

The day’s gray light is just beginning to fade when she hears a commotion at their perimeter. Three of the tall Sindar guards come into camp with someone struggling and swearing between them, nearly breaking free from their hold in spite of their efforts, and in spite of his much shorter stature.

Kili.

Her heart flutters with relief and worry, and sparks, too, at the rich clothing and shining armor than adorns him. She has only ever seen Kili in his travel clothes, worn thin and ragged from months in the wild. The rich blue fabric at his collar and down his arms catches the color in his eyes and skin, and the dwarven-made armor shines a pure silver around the Durin crest on his breastplate and over his shoulders. It all finally does justice to the grace and beauty she had seen in him from the first moment.

But something is amiss. Why is here alone? And why does she sense such great uncertainty and fear coming from him?

He’s glaring daggers at his captors which is easy to understand since they are the same ones who’d thrown him and his family into a dungeon not so long ago. He looks wildly around, surely expecting to see Thranduil, glowering darkly at Legolas. But when his eyes finally find hers she does not see the reaction she had hoped to see. The furrow between his eyebrows becomes deeper, and if anything the nervousness she’d sensed becomes worse.

“We found him by the stream filling his cantene. He refused to tell us his name or his business here.”

Kili wrenches his arm out of the grip of his guards, glowering up at them. “It is _you_ who camp upon Dwarf lands! I live here!” But Tauriel sees him wince slightly at this. “ What would _your_ business be?”

Legolas steps forward. “There is no call for disrespect, Kili son of Dis.” A breath flows through the Elves as they recognize the name and gather in for a closer look. “What brings you out here to us? Is something wrong? How does your Uncle?”

Kili continues to bristle like a porcupine. “I’m just out for an evening stroll actually, Legolas son of Thranduil. How does your _father?_ ”

Tauriel grips Legolas’ arm just hard enough to calm him, and whispers “Peace, _mellon_. He looks to have suffered the same loss as you have. Think of that.”

Legolas relaxes somewhat. But Kili looks ready to bolt at any moment.

Tauriel reaches her hand out to him. “Kili will you walk with me?”

His hand trembles in hers even though he walks by her side with his head held high and his shoulders squared. She has never felt such fragility in him, and the difference in their heights has never mattered to her, never seemed to make a difference in the matching of their characters at all.

Until now. At this moment she finds herself actually wishing she were just a little shorter.

Kili’s fists clench and unclench fitfully. The Sylvan women look up from their battle preparations and mark them as they pass, some getting up to see Kili more closely, calling to their kinswomen to poke their heads out of their tents.

It makes everything worse.

“Where is Thranduil?” Kili says

“Thranduil is not here. My people have driven him out.”

“Out? So he was banished?”

  
“Yes.”

Kili’s agitation seems to grow even worse at this. Her kinswomen, Sylvan and Sindar alike, have gathered along their path with curious expressions on their faces, and Kili begins to behave as though orcs were surrounding him.

“Why are they staring at me?” he hisses to Tauriel. But before she can speak he turns to them, “What are you looking at? Have you nothing better to do!!!?” He shouts, and their eyes go wide.

Dinariel steps forward, her face etched with concern. “Tauriel, _prestad_?”

Kili reacts savagely to this. “What did you say to me? What does that mean??!!!”

Tauriel quickly orders Dinariel to disperse the others, and in desperation grabs Kili and pulls him to a more secluded area between two tents.

“She was simply asking me what was wrong.”

“There is nothing wrong. I just don’t like being stared at.” but he still won’t meet her eyes.

“Kili look at me!” she grasps his shoulders and drops to one knee before him so that when his eyes finally look into hers she no longer towers over him. Her heart breaks at the pain evident in the grey irises. And the doubt and fear she had sensed earlier are there, and--

_Kili doubts her.  He fears her. How could that be?_

“I can see that something awful has happened. Kili Please tell me what has happened to you.”

“If you can see it why do I need to tell you?”

“Please, Kili I want to help--”

“You cannot. There is nothing you can do.” He sinks down to the ground. “THere is nothing anyone can do.”

Despair in Kili? Doubt, fear and darkness swirl in this man who has been nothing but bright strength and warm smiles since the day she’d first seen him? Even the darkness of the Woodland Realm dungeon had not phased him when he’d been a prisoner in rags. Now he is free under his own sky, within his own reclaimed Kingdom, wearing Princely robes and armor, and it seems as though his courage has failed him.

She rests her forehead carefully against his. “ _Melindo--”_

He flinches and pulls away from her “Don’t. Please don’t.”

“Don’t what? Kili what is wrong? Is it something I’ve done? Please tell me!”

His anguished eyes search her face until he finally releases a breath, shaking his head.

“I have been banished.”

“No, oh Kili. Why?”

“Thorin is not himself.” He evades her question and comes to his feet, moving away from her. “It was better that it was me rather than Fili. Thorin is unable to lead them but Fili will manage it if the others stay loyal to him. I just wish I could have stayed to help.” He almost seems to be speaking to himself more than to her.

“And you, what will you do?”

“I will find Dain and the Ironfists. They march from the Northwest. The Ravens told us they would arrive by nightfall.”

“But Kili, the Orcs march from the West and are a far larger force. It grows dark and you are alone. You might cross the Orc scouts before you can reach your kin. Stay here, stay with us and fight with us!”

Kili is already shaking his head “I cannot stay here. I cannot.”

“Why not? Thranduil is no longer a threat, Legolas and I lead the Wood elves now. And Elrond leads the Rivendell Elves, he is the finest and wisest of my kind I have ever met!”

She thinks she may have reached him. A sad smile tugs at his lips as they both remember Elrond’s skill as he’d healed Tauriel when she’d been cursed.

“And the Elves of Lothlorien are here, too, and they are said to be fierce fighters. And Galadriel--”

“Galadriel??!” He speaks the name like a hammer blow to the earth, his expression darkening. “She is here? You will fight with her?”

Tauriel stares at him, confounded. “Kili?”

But he is backing away into the fading light, his head shaking, “I cannot stay here.”

“Kili! At least let me give you a guide!”

  
“No, no, I’ll find my own way.”

Tauriel feels real fear for the first time in here 600 years of life. Even raped, even cursed, alone and exiled she had never been so afraid. The army of Orcs that marches towards them is close, their boots thunder in her sensitive Elven ears, and she knows now for certain that they do not just march for blood. They march for Durin blood.

Kili’s blood.

And Kili is about to run out into the darkness and deliver himself right to them.

“I’m sorry Tauriel.” For a moment he seems to be reading her thoughts, but he won’t be stopped.

He turns and disappears into the night.


	5. Messengers

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kili is alone in no man's land.

Kili runs for what seems like ages, kneeling down occasionally to lay his hand against the earth. He feels the tremors of thousands of marching beings, but he can’t be certain from which direction, or whether they are friend or foe. He finally sits against a large rock to rest. This armor is new to him, heavier than his old armor, and he’d forgotten how difficult it was to run while wearing it for any length of time.

He has no experience with a battle of this scale. Small skirmishes, attacks of the caravans he’d guarded on the roads, the attacks of the orcs on Wargs near Rivendell, the Goblins in the goblin tunnels they’d only had to deal with a few dozen at a time. But now there are thousands of Orcs out there and he knows they are coming for him.

His heart races. Not only because of the heavy armor. He's not even certain how much of the tremors he feels in the earth might be the tremors in his own muscles. He’s run across fields wearing armor before, been under threat from orcs before. But never alone. Fili belongs by his side, his piercing blue eyes forward, his boots and the chinking of his chain mail beating in time with Kili’s. Bofur always hummed a tune when they traveled at speed. Kili was convinced he’d been unaware of it. But Bofur's tunes settled them and kept them in step. Dwalin would glare at them each in turn, snarling encouragement that belied the fierce dip of his brows. And Thorin would always be out ahead of them, certain, unstopping, giving Kili targets to shoot at, urging them onwards, his great black mane of hair rippling back at them.

Kili’s head falls into his hands. What was he doing out here alone? Tauriel had been right. He should have stayed with the Elves. At least he’d have a fighting chance. Dwalin had said he should find Dain, but even if Kili could find his way past the Orc scouts to his Ironfist kin, he had no guarantee of their welcoming him into their ranks. He had never met Dain and did not know any of his Ironfist brethren. And what if word had reached them of his banishment? Why should they receive him at all?

He considers changing direction and heading to Dale to join Bard’s men, but that seems somehow cowardly. Again what reason does he have to explain why he would join them and not stay with his own kind?

And heading back to the Elves seems a bad idea both in terms of his personal pride and the opinion of his kin. Surely none of them would approve. And every nerve in his body had cringed in their presence as he thought of Galadriel’s jewel bright gaze and her powerful mind stabbing into his thoughts like a spoon through bread pudding. All those Wood Elves suddenly surrounding him, all those women, with rich dark hair just like Tauriel’s, lining up to look at him. Their eyes boring into him. What did they seek? Could they see what had just happened to him? That he’d just been thrown out of his own homeland? That his heart was two threads from breaking? That he missed his brother like someone had just taken his right arm away?

Were they Measuring him up? Judging his ability to resist him? Probing his mind for weakness?

He sighs shakily. Fili would tell him he was being ridiculous. Of course he would. But he couldn’t control his reaction. Now that he knew the real consequence of Elven abilities it was difficult to trust. He did not want to doubt Tauriel. He wanted to turn back time. He wanted to simply love her and believe in that feeling again. He still sees her stricken face as he’d backed away from her and run from the Elven camp. She could not understand his fear of her because she really had done nothing to cause it. He is holding her responsible for another’s mistake.

A quiet fluttering of wings and the settling of claws on his shoulder has him leaping to his feet, his sword in his hands, swinging desperately at space around him. His heart hammers in his ribs as he scans the land around him, seeing noone. But as he turns in a slow circle, finally looking back at the stone against which he’d been leaning, he sees two great dark birds perched there, their heads slightly tilted, regarding him with their large yellow eyes.

_Sorry to have startled you Prince Kili._

Kili lets out a huge breath and sheaths his sword.

_We have been looking for you. Your brother is very worried about you and wished us to convey to you a message._

“I am glad to see you, Roac, Cren. What does my brother say?”

_Fili instructed us to tell you that as soon as you encounter any group of our allies, be they Dwarven, Human, or Elven, you are to stay with them and fight with them._

Kili sighs at the irony. “Good advice, that. I shall do my best to comply.”

_That being said, I must tell you that you are in danger here. The Orc army is close, and you will have to move swiftly and carefully to reach Dain’s forces to the North._

Cren hops forward. _I offer myself as your guide, my Prince, if you will have me._

Kili nods to the young bird. “I would be most grateful to you.” He looks back to Roac. “Please tell my brother you found me well, and that I hope to meet him on the battlefield. Tell him I will look for him there, that I will not let him fight Azog alone.”

Roac bows reverently and flaps his great wings, disappearing into the night. Cren rises high into the air but stays hovering above Kili for a few moments, before returning low enough to speak to him.

_Follow me my Prince!_

Hope spreads warmth back into Kili’s limbs as he begins to run again. Fili sent the Ravens. His brother’s thoughts are with him even if he is not right here. Roac will tell him Kili is safe and Kili knows the relief Fili will experience from that news.

He picks up his speed, his eyes brightening, his gloved fingers closing confidently around his sword handle as keeps Cren and the horizon in his sights.


	6. chinks in the armor

Legolas finds Tauriel with her Sylvan lieutenants, speaking in low tones with them as they help each other into their armor. They speak of the battle coming, of how they will fight, where they place themselves in line when the Orc ranks show themselves. Sylvan and Sindar have always kept to their own groups in battle. Tauriel is ordering them to break with this tradition. They argue only tremulously with her as she tightens the straps on their armor, helps fasten their swords to their backs, fits their helms carefully down around their ears.

 

They look at her with the reverence born of centuries. Legolas does not want to interrupt but he knows that he must. When he touches her elbow he feels the tremors she has hidden from the others.

 

“Tauriel. A word.”

 

The mask she’d worn for them drops for him. Now he sees the anguish she hides, the fear he knows she feels for the dwarf who ran from their camp a short while ago. He feels her connection to him stretched out to the plains where Kili flees blindly away from the Elven power he only recently discovered firsthand. His friend is torn in two pieces before him, stealing herself to stay with her people and lead them and at the same time shaking and yearning to follow her love out onto the plains to protect him. It’s all there in her eyes.

 

“We must all fight as one, _mellon_ , don’t you agree?”

 

“Of course, Tauriel. That isn’t what concerns me.”

 

“I am fine. Do not concern yourself for me.”

 

“I know you far better than that, dear one.” He pulls her slightly aside and she resists, but only slightly. “You worry for your Naugrim.”

 

Tauriel releases a breath. “He acted strangely. He’s never looked at me like that before, as though I’d done something terrible. As though he feared me, feared all of us. I just wish I understood. Even if I were to go after him now to find him what good am I to him if he fears me?”

 

Legolas wants to tell her what he suspects, wants to share what the young heir, Fili, had told him of Kili’s strange disappearance and reappearance. But there is no time. They can hear the primal screeches and thundering footfalls of the Orcs cresting the hill and beginning to flow down into the plains as they stand there.

 

Suddenly a wave of silvery power hits them both. Realizing instantly who now walks among them Legolas tenses, and then starts when he sees Galadriel’s unmistakable armored form standing right next to them.

 

She dispenses with formalities and speaks directly to the point.

 

“Mithrandir is gathering the Men of Dale at the east end of the plain. You should gather your people and join them there. The Ironfist dwarves are cresting the hill to the North.”

 

“Any sign of Thorin and the Company?”

 

“Not yet. Do not wait for them. The Men of Dale will need you first, see to their flanks.” She looks at Legolas, then, finally meeting his eyes.

 

He realizes there must be judgement in his looks and shrugs nervously, averting his stare. Eons of living, of seeing, of breathing the history of Arda radiate from Galadriel and Legolas respects this and bows to the powerful being before him. But a growing part of him thinks that such a being should have had no need to seek the intimate company of a simple young dwarf, if that is indeed what occured. Other pieces of this strange puzzle of these past weeks fall into place one by one, as his father’s infuence on his thinking loosens, as the more graceful examples of Elven perspective have passed before him. Celeborn’s patience, Elrond’s generosity, even Tauriel’s stubborn true heartedness have beaten chinks into his armored heart until he finds that he sees everything differently. In fact he notices everything now, and allows himself to feel things he had suppressed because his father had taught him to be ashamed of such banal things as compassion and empathy.

 

But these are the very things that allow him to know. He understands now. He saw the young dwarf prince react to the Elves here in the camp and he recognized fear and distrust. He thinks, for the first time, of the young dwarf he’d left behind on that beach when he’d made his claim on Tauriel. Kili had been all outrage, fury, indignation,

 

And courage.

 

In spite of being completely in over his head. And as oblivious to his own powerlessness as mortals always were.

 

But Legolas had not thought twice about leaving Kili there with Celeborn and Galadriel. They were his most respected Elders. In the entire race of Elves there were few more legendary than these two. And Kili deserved whatever punishment they dealt him. He had dared to touch one of his people, he had dared to lie with Tauriel, _his Tauriel._

 

But the rage he’d felt has calmed. Watching his father’s arrogance had cured Legolas of his own. Whatever love he feels for anyone now, for a kinsman, a parent, or even his dearest childhood friend could never again be tainted by corruption. By anything as base as greed. He’d seen enough of that in his father. He’d seen where it led.

 

Now when he looks at Tauriel he feels grateful she still calls him friend. And when he thinks of Kili he feels shame.

 

And when he looks at Galadriel, he thinks perhaps she ought to feel some shame, too.

 

He startles when he realizes Galadriel’s eyes still focus on him, the tiniest of smiles threading a dimple along one side of her face. But it is not a prideful smile. It exudes sadness, in fact.

 

“You will be a great one, Legolas.”

 

He senses that she is somehow speaking to both him and Tauriel simultaneously, locking them both within her gaze.

 

 _Stay with our people my children. Do not despair, for there is always hope when friends stay true._ She cups Tauriel’s face with her hand. _I vow to you that I will find him and protect him._

 

And suddenly she is gone as though she had never been there.


	7. brotherly challenges

Kili’s sword hacks into the neck of an orc, finding the gap between its body armor and the spiked helmet covering its hideous skull. It falls, but five more take its place as Kili barely has time to bring his sword back up to face them. Dain himself fights at his right flank, and if not for that there would ten others coming at him.

Dain fights with grim determination. Kili, on the other hand, fears his heart might be close to exploding.

“Calm yerself, nephew. Don waste eny more energy on ‘em than yeh have to.”

Kili ‘s muscles call upon all the training sessions he ever had with Dwalin. Most of his reactions come automaticaly and the dark creatures fall to his sword one after the other. This is fortunate because if he’d had to rely on thought directing his actions in this mess he’d have been dead long ago. He isn’t even sure how much “long ago” means. He’s lost track of time. He can’t measure how long it has been since the immense army of orcs had slammed into the Ironfoot lines. Minutes? Hours? All he knows are his own arms swinging his sword, his legs shifting and bracing to face too many enemies coming at him at once, his own breath roaring in and out him too fast, too fast, and orc blood spattering his arms and chest, even making its acrid way into his mouth.

The sparring practices hadn’t included any of this.

Cren had led him to Dain with barely minutes to spare before the orcs hit their lines. The Ironfist leader had stared openly at Kili when he'd found him, the dark haired prince standing there wide eyed and gasping for air with a great black raven sitting on his shoulder. His men stared, too, narrowing their eyes at this rogue young Durin, watching to see what Dain would do.

“Where’s yer Uncle?”

“Still in the Mountain last I knew, Sir. He is not himself.”

A displeased rumble travels through the lines. “But my brother Fili leads them, now. Cren tells me the Company will join the fight.”

“How many are ye in the compn’y?”

“Twelve, my Lord.”

Finally the gruff red headed dwarf had acted quickly, pulling Kili into line next to him and ordering him to use his arrows against any discernible leaders.

He lets his arrows fly with those of Dain’s archers as the orc line thunders towards them. Five hundred feet, four hundred, three hundred...he nearly empties his quiver, every arrow finding its mark.

But it seems to make no difference.

The wall of dark creatures outnumber them twenty to one. How could a quiver of fifty arrows make any difference?

The ironfists create their phalanxe of shields to protect against the first onslaught. Kili will never forget the noise and force of it, as though the very mountain were collapsing and a thousand tons of stone were colliding with them. But the dwarfs stand fast. And then Kili is fighting, striking at leathery necks and torsos, soon finding himself covered in black blood. Normally he would move towards the bodies he’d felled and retrieve his arrows to use again, but there is no chance of that here. The chaos of enemies and noise and the desperation of simply holding his position next to Dain makes any other plan or movement impossible.

\--------------------------------------------

Dwalin watches Fili on the battlements as the young dwarf appears to converse with a great black bird. Singular, that. He can’t imagine some big bird flapping its feathers and squaking messages at him. Seems unnatural. But the Durins have had this power for generations. He knows the same blood runs in him, too. He supposes Roac would have come to him next if Fili had proven unworthy.

He’s glad the lad proved worthy.

In any case, if not for the ravens they would never have known that Kili had made it to Dain’s lines. Fili’s mind had been greatly eased by this knowledge and it had allowed him to focus on the dwarves here in the Mountain who needed him.  Dwalin is relieved, too.  It was almost more than he could bear, thinking of Kili alone tonight on that battlefield. Dwalin is not one for grand emotions.

But he does love Fili and Kili as if they were his own sons. He always has.

The Company are ready, or as ready as they can be. They were not able to deliver any food or help to Dale with Thorin’s condition impeding them, but every member of the company has armor and weapons for battle.

Now the only question is whether they will go to meet it, or sit and wait like cowards for it to come to them.

It all depends on the young Prince. Will he have the courage to defy his Uncle? Does he have enough of the Company’s support to pull off what amounts to Dwarven blood treachery?

In Dwalin’s mind the only true blood treachery done here was Thorin’s banishing his own nephew onto a deadly Battlefield, and then abandoning his kin the Ironfoot clan down on that same field after he’d called for their aid.

That is what he will tell anyone who questions Fili’s actions, whatever the young dwarf decides to do.

None of them have seen Thorin for hours. He has chosen treasure over kin. Dwalin’s heart would turn to granite if not for the hope his nephew gives him.

The others have gathered there behind him. As Roac flies away, they move to the edge of Erebor’s gate and watch in horror as the sea of Orcs approaches the Ironfoot line at top speed.

Fili turns to them, then. He seems to have aged decades overnight. His blue eyes have lost their softness and turned to steel as he speaks to them.

“I know I am not your King. I cannot command you to follow me. But I ask that you do, so that we may help our Ironfist kin to defend this Mountain. We made this Quest to find our home and reclaim it. We cannot let if fall into enemy hands now. Will you follow me?”

“That I will.”

They all start at the deep voice behind them, and stare in wonder at Thorin, crownless, jewelless, as he walks with purpose towards Fili. Uncle and Nephew grasp each other’s shoulders, a constellation of emotions pass between them, the sounds of their cheering kinsmen filling the mostly empty halls of Erebor with hope for the first time centuries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this Dain is not Billy Connolly, sorry. I couldn't do it. Kili needed a more fatherly dwarf with some protective instincts. So did I.
> 
> Hope you are enjoying. love to hear your comments!


	8. To protect a kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took awhile to get this chapter done. Writing battle scenes is just not my forte. I hope it all makes sense!
> 
> I never liked Peter Jackson's Battle for the Mountain. Not just because the Durins die, but how they die separately and meaninglessly. I'm trying to remedy some of that here. Nevertheless, I have come to the decision that this is not going to be a complete fixit. so:
> 
> warning: major character mortal injury

A commotion on the field to their left draws Kili’s attention. He can only spare a small part of it, but even the orcs he fights turn their eyes towards the great gate of Erebor and the passionate group of dwarves that explodes out from it and careens into the flank of their enemies, distracting them and giving them an additional front to deal with. Kili’s heart leaps. He is certain he saw Thorin’s shock of black hair among the group, and thinks he hears Fili’s war cry penetrating the din of crashing metal and screaming orcs around him.

He is moving before he even realizes he’s made the decision.

“About bloody time they joined us--hey! Kili wherein ya think yer goin’?!! Yer Uncle’l flay me alive if anythin happens to ya! Get back here!!!!”

But Kili can barely hear Dain, already several fighting lengths away from him. New strength fuels his battling limbs. He throws himself at the sea of dark creatures who stand between him and his kin, hacking aside every club, sword, mace or armored body that comes at him. He will not stop until he is fighting next to Fili again where he belongs.

\---------------------------------  
Tauriel has never felt so distracted during a battle. She fights with her kin first to support the flank of Bard’s men, but soon the Elves take up the front of the line of men and stay there barely holding off the force of orcs that launch at them again and again to reach the vulnerable women and children behind the gates of Dale. The monstrosity of their attack jars her senses. No matter how many centuries she lives, Tauriel will never become inured to the kind of evil that actively seeks to kill the innocent. Why do they waste their forces on crumbling Dale when their true objective is the treasure in the Mountain?

So she stays and defends Dale. But her eyes constantly scan the field below, seeking Dain’s huge red bearded form, knowing that Kili has been fighting beside him. Galadriel had kept her word. Tauriel cannot tell exactly where the ancient Elf woman is, but her mind keeps receiving images and impressions of Kili and the battle surrounding him. Her breath catches every time it happens. The glint of silver shoulder plate armour as Kili raises his sword arm to arc into another enemy, the blazing hazel eyes and mouth opened in a snarl of determination. His sineous fighting style singles him out amongst the other dwarves. He moves faster, twists his body around his slender waist as his other brethren cannot, spins on a dime to block a blade headed for Dain’s unprotected side and then turns back to decapitate another offender. He holds his own. Of course he does. Thus far he seems in no more danger than could be expected in such an apocalyptic environment.

Until.

The dread grows slowly in her belly and she disregards it at first, meshing the feeling with the horrors of the battle as a whole. But it keeps growing until a shudder spreads to her spine and crawls up her neck. She turns to look once more towards the western end of the field, and sees the white orc Azog swaggering on his wahg towards a place where the glint of dwarven armor concentrates in a tiny group of growing desperation. Only now is it apparent that the largest and strongest of the Orc warriors surround the group where Thorin and Fili have made their stand. The Durins and their companions fight fiercely and with much superior skill than their enemies, but the dark sea is vast and closes in on them too far from Dain and his men to help them.

Except for one dwarf. Kili. Galadriel’s sending shows him fighting his way steadily towards his kin, completely unmindful of the fact that his enemies are opening a path for him, snickering at his gullibility as they draw him into the death trap their master has made for him.

\--------------------------------------------------

_Kili._

He plods forward. He can see the corner of his brother’s helm, blond locks flowing out from under it.

_Kili you must go back. This is a trap._

He knows she is right. There are too few blades opposing him. Orc faces always seem set into permanent sneers in his experience, but he doesn’t often see them smiling. And they are smiling. laughing at him.

He doesn’t care.

_That’s my family in there. Stay away from me, witch. I am going to them._

Finally he reaches them. Azog and Thorin circle each other ominously, forming the epicenter of a maelstrom of chaos. Every member of the Company can see their leader but none of them can reach him. Kili feels horror growing in the pit of his stomach with every friend he sees facing a desperate fight.

He begins to understand something so bleak and so dark that his muscles falter. The fierce expression on his face falls, his eyes widen, the tension lines disappear into the blankness of one newly born into the world. The older warriors by the home fires back in the Ered Luin when he’d been a youngling, he knows now why so many had turned away from him when he had asked them to tell him stories from the battles they had fought. Their faces, already withered by time, had turned grey as the ash in their pipes. Their eyes had flashed with pain and they had gruffed at him and sent him away.

Kili had always thought that it was the memory of battle that frightened them, that their horror stemmed from threats to their own life and limb. And he had judged them for that. In his youthful pride he had always asserted to himself that were he ever to go into battle, he would not succumb to such sensory attacks, he would overcome fear, and win, always win. He would live to tell the tale as he and Fili always did, side by side, arguing sometimes over details, but agreeing on the intensity of the adventure as their arms mimicked the more crucial sweeps of their swords and they reached the victory at the end with a cry of _Khazad abod amuriz!_

But he sees only now, too late, that the worst part of battle for a dwarf fighting next to his close kin would never be fear for himself.

Nori and Dori fight back to back, their faces grim, as the six orcs surrounding them take it in turns to hack at them with their curved blades and grab and stab at a prone figure huddled between their legs. Their brother Ori’s face snarls between rage and shame. Blood shines on his breastplate and he seems to struggle to push himself up though one of his hands is missing.

He can just make out Bifur and Bombur to his left, who seem to be at the center of a cruel circle created by a mass of orc bodies and are battling two fierce female orcs, one swinging a large mace, the other wielding an axe. The audience of male orcs look on gleefully as Bifur, the old axehead finally dislodged from his skull, stumbles about in confusion and swings his sword at random as Bombur struggles to protect both of them as best he can.

Kili cannot see the others except for Dwalin, whose huge form towers over even the larger orcs. He seems possessed, his eyes wild and mouth opened in a permanent battle cry as he struggles to hack through the wall of enemies that separates him from Thorin and Fili. He spots Kili then and real fear enters his expression, something Kili has never seen in Dwalin’s eyes.

“Kili no! Why did you come!? No!”

He sees Fili and Thorin then. His Uncle battles Azog with both hands gripping Orchrist, Fili fighting at his back. Both their helms have been knocked off and they bleed from what Kili hopes are minor head wounds. Fili’s right arm hangs limp at his side but he fights valiantly and skillfully with his left as Bolg towers over him, slicing at him and attempting to stab past him at Thorin behind him.

Thorin and Fili fight well but Kili perceives their fatigue, and Azog and Bolg do not seem to have spent all their energies. They pary Thorin and Fili’s sword blows but do not push a full attack into them. They are waiting…

For him.

 _“Vok foshnu zo!_ ” The black speech reaches Kili’s ears and chills him to the bone. He does not need a translation of Azog’s words. No wall of orcs stands between him and his family now because their master is drawing Kili into a kill box where he can finally slaughter all three Durins at once. Kili knows this, he feels the orcs parting the way for him, not daring to disobey their master, knows the terrible odds, hears Dwalin still screaming behind him,

But charges forwards anyway.

His mind chants to him stubbornly.

_No, I will not let my uncle die._   
_No, I will not let my brother die._   
_I will not find myself sitting alone in my old age, with a chair kept empty beside me where Fili should be, with noone to share the telling of the story of the battle for the Mountain, with the next generation of younglings judging me for fearing the past._

_No_

_No_

_No_

The next few seconds last an age. Kili’s presence seems to horrify and galvanize Thorin and Fili all at once. He adds his strength to theirs and catches their eyes, pleading to them with a look to forgive him for his youth, his rashness, for Tauriel, for everything.

But it is Thorin who speaks.

“Kili. _Gajut men_.”

“Please Uncle. It is forgotten.”

It is all they are able to exchange as their orc arch enemies finally release their dark hatred upon them. The first real sword blow Kili parries from Azog nearly drives him to the ground, and if not for Thorin’s steadying hand at his back he might have met his end right then. But the Durins gain a strength of their own, too, in their reunion and their unbreakable love for each other renewed here in the midst of this bloodbath. Kili covers Fili’s weakened right side, and both brothers fight to protect Thorin not just from Bolg but from other foes breaking in to weaken the Mountain King.

They move as one entity for a time, turning and parrying, their long hair loose and flying, their swords stabbing at their giant foes and protecting each other, a combined force that achieves several significant wounds to the two orc generals. Kili and Fili had trained all their lives for this moment, and Thorin seems to shine beside them, fueled not only to protect a kingdom, but to protect his nephews, not just because of their status as heirs, but because they have taken a space in his heart. Kili can feel this from his uncle as he fights by his side.

But it cannot last. The blows grow heavier and heavier, and Azog calls in the warriors he’d been holding back, ordering them _“Vras foshnu!”_ and Kili suddenly fights against four giant orcs whose curved blades strike sparks against his armor in more places than he can defend.

He hears Thorin scream something, and abruptly Fili’s body slams against his side. His brother utters a noise from his throat that Kili has never heard him make, something between surprise and regret, something guttural due to the blood sputtering from Fili’s mouth as Bolg slides his blade triumphantly from between the armor plates covering Fili’s abdomen.

  
Kili uses the moment the orc is distracted to draw his sword back, and screams his horror and rage out of his lungs as he slices Bolg’s laughing head from his body.

He is knocked to the ground after that, and all goes strangely warm and blank as a heavy weight drives him into the gore covered ground.

Fili. He must get to him. If he can touch him, reach him, he can prevent any bad from happening. In the haze of his battered senses, with blood filling his mouth, he is certain of this.

He pulls himself out from under the weight that covers him. Fili lies within his line of vision, his face turned towards him, his gloved hand reaching out. Kili grabs it and pulls himself to his side, denying the palor he sees in Fili’s face, the scent of too much dwarven blood in the air, and focuses on his brother’s blue eyes that radiate affection and humor even here, even now.

“Fili?!” he fumbles for the wound in his brother’s belly, finds it, presses down to staunch the flow, to never let go.

Fili’s voice is whisper thin. “Not so bad to be the favorite of Elven lasses, eh?”

Kili frowns, and wonders suddenly why he hasn’t been skewered by now, lying prone and unprotected on the battle ground. Through the flying dust and noise around him he finally perceives the reason. Two armor clad elves have joined their fight. One tall and masked behind a golden helm stands over him and his brother, dispatching any orc that dares to come near them. The other--

Tauriel. She spins and strikes at Azog who snarls and roars in frustration at her coming between him and his intended prey. It reminds him of the first time he had ever seen her, battling the giant spiders in Mirkwood. He’d been spellbound then, and somehow so much younger. That was barely a month ago. It seems a lifetime now.

Many things happen then. A great winged shadow flies over them, and a huge savage beast attacks Azog from behind, its great jaws closing down on his head and spraying black blood across the field. The giant orc’s body falls lifeless.

It is only then that Kili realizes that the warm weight that had fallen onto him, the body he had crawled out from under, was Thorin.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gajut men?
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Khazad abod amuriz = Dwarves strike the earth  
> Gajut men = forgive me
> 
> Black speech:  
> Vok foshnu zo! = the baby dwarf is mine  
> Vras foshnu!” = kill the young ones


End file.
